[Intro]
[Hammered piano and five-beat guitar strikes leave abrupt gaps of silence.]

They called me kind when kindness served.
They called me calm when rage stayed curved.
Now every smile appears rehearsed.
I taste the answer first and worst.

[Verse 1]
I know who skipped the warning mail.
I know who watched the rollback fail.
I know who signed, then left the call
Before the numbers hit the wall.
They pass my desk with careful eyes,
Their morning greetings wrapped in lies.
I answer clean, I answer brief,
Then picture them beneath the grief.

[Pre-Chorus]
I hate the laugh beside the door.
I hate the phrase, “We’ve learned before.”
I hate the tone that asks me still
To be the one who bends his will.

[Chorus]
Good soul, bad blood—what have I become?
A patient hand with a loaded tongue.
Good soul, bad blood under office white,
Wanting the right to watch them carry
What I carried alone—
Good soul, bad blood, flesh into stone.

[Verse 2]
A message asks if I can share
My “lessons learned” with those who were there.
I write, “Of course,” then close the thread
And speak the answer in my head:
You learned that I will take the strain.
You learned that I will hide the name.
You learned that if the pressure grew,
The helpful fool would carry you.

[Choir]
Say it.
Name them.
Cut the cord.
Make them answer
Word for word.

[Chorus]
Good soul, bad blood—what have I become?
A patient hand with a loaded tongue.
Good soul, bad blood under office white,
Wanting the right to watch them carry
What I carried alone—
Good soul, bad blood, flesh into stone.

[Instrumental Break]
[Dissonant viola runs and angular guitar fragments fight over the mechanical five-beat pulse.]

[Bridge]
What if the system did not make
This bitter wish I cannot shake?
What if it found the buried room
Where decent hands can welcome doom?

[Breakdown]
I want the build to fail again.
I want the call at half past ten.
I want their voices stripped of gloss.
I want them finally taught the cost.

[Silence]
Then I hear what I have said.

[Final Chorus]
Good soul, bad blood—look at what I’ve done:
I made their fear my private sun.
Good soul, bad blood under warning light,
I cannot call this hunger right.
If I become what I condemn,
The system wins through me, not them.

[Outro]
He left the room before he spoke.
The corridor lights divided his coat.
Behind him someone called his name.
He did not turn. He felt no shame.
